by J. Naomi Ay
“Shut up! If you’re going to yell, you might as well go back to the house, and tell the Evil Emperor exactly where we’re going.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Rent muttered, pushing himself upright, the boat bouncing wildly beneath him.
“Over the side please.” Steve climbed onto the deck, and began to snap the jib onto the dancing halyards. “I hope this is the top.”
“Don’t you know?” Rent held his head over the rail.
White foam broke from the rolling waves, causing Rent’s stomach to lurch even more. This was an altogether bad idea. He wouldn’t last five minutes on this boat, let alone the hours it would take to escape the boundaries of the estate.
Rent took several hard, deep breaths, closed his eyes, and sat back down on the bench, while wondering if he should let Steve go it alone. He had no doubt his brother would escape. Steve was stronger and smarter when it came down to it. Steve had been in the SpaceNavy, and could fight with a lightsword, while Rent was terrified of the weapon even when it wasn’t turned on.
“Steve…” Rent made a tentative move to stand up, just as the wind shuddered, and another wave tossed them heavily against the dock. He sat back down, glancing at the villa, and the dark room on the third floor where his warm, soft bed waited for him. Then, he remembered Eva, and his resolve to leave returned.
“Ready?” Steve asked excitedly, as if they were about to set off on a great adventure. He was pulling one of the sheets, raising the white sail, which started flapping wildly as the wind caught it and fought to take them. “Here. You hold on to this. Pull it tight when I tell you.” Steve scrambled up on the deck again, bending down at the various cleats to release the boat. “Pull!” he yelled, when the boat rocked away, into the waves. The sail thrashed, fighting Rent, resisting his attempt to rein it in, and direct the wind which roared across it. “Come on!” Steve hollered. “Use your strength.”
What strength? Rent thought. He had no strength. He couldn’t fight the wind over a length of plastic. He was just Rent, loser, the second son, the one who was sent away in a cardboard box, the one who lost the girl to his father.
“Come on, dude. Hold the tiller!”
Steve snatched the rope away from his brother, and wrapped it around the winch. He hauled in the sail, securing the line on a cleat and setting the boat into forward motion in swift close reach.
Rent grasped the wooden stick, which served to steer the boat, heading out into the dark bay, guided only by the luffing noises of wind against sails.
“When did you last sail with Mom?” Rent asked his brother, as Steve unwrapped and prepared to hoist the mainsail.
“I don’t know. A long time. Maybe, when I was about six?”
“Six?” Rent shrieked, the tiller wobbling in his hand. “You did this at six, and you think you can get us safely out of here?”
“Dude,” Steve replied, leaning across the boom. “Look at yourself. You’ve got it handled. We’re half way across the bay already. When we get beyond the rocks, we’ll come about, and let the wind blow us due south. Easy peasey, lemon squeezee, no problemo. We’re de Kudishas, right? We may not be angels, but we’re princes among men.”
Rent turned briefly to look at the shore, surprised that his brother was right. They were already what seemed like miles away. Although the wind was blowing steadily, the open sea made the ride fast and smooth.
It was then that Rent saw a flicker of light. He could have sworn it was shining silver, and he could have sworn it was on the balcony, in front of the bedroom windows of the room next to his.
The sailboat cleared the bay with Rent still at the helm, the two men sitting on the high side as the boat heeled into the waves.
“Okay, we switch now,” Steve ordered. “You let loose the jib while I turn to head south. Duck as the boom will swing quickly in your direction.”
Rent did as he was told and managed to secure the sheet on the opposite cleat, using the winch to pull it, instead of his arms. Now the wind was behind them, one sail billowing out on either side. The boat felt slower even though it was traveling almost as fast. Rent studied the sails, which looked like ghosts, guiding them through the night.
“Did you bring any food?” he asked his brother after a time.
It was nearly morning. A thin line of a golden light was breaking on the distant horizon.
“No.” Steve lit a smoke. “You don’t think you can last a few more hours without something to eat? Go look in the cabin. Mom always kept a bunch of snacks in there.”
Rent descended three small steps, and studied the tiny room. There were two bunks, a tiny table, a little galley, with a cupboard full of crystalized candy, as well as a box of Twinkies and snack cakes with a shelf-life of a thousand years.
Portholes, on either side of the cabin, were coated in salt from the splashing waves. It was warm down there, and the rocking felt more intense.
Rent’s stomach began churn, and his head to ache, so grabbing the Twinkies, he rapidly climbed back out.
“Twinkies,” Steve smirked. “I’m sure they’re still good. Those have probably only been here for thirty-five years. Dig in, bro. They’re going to be breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
Rent began to unwrap a cake. In fact, he was just about to toss it in his mouth when the boat slammed into a wall, knocking them back, nearly tossing the men into the water.
“Holy shit!” Steve roared, picking himself up.
He climbed on the foredeck, quickly surveying the sailboat’s structure. The boat, though having collided with something, looked undamaged. In fact, it was entirely intact, now bobbing up and down as if it was tied again to a dock. Leaning over the bowsprit, Steve held out his hand, apparently touching an invisible wall.
“What is it?” Rent watched his brother move sideways, both hands outstretched.
The waves on the other side of his brother’s hands looked exactly the same, the shoreline in the distance extending for miles.
“It’s the security bubble. I had no idea it was all the way over here. Kari-fa! I should have known, he would have done that. The wall goes upward more than fifty-thousand feet. It probably runs out into the ocean for a million miles too.”
“What are we going to do?” Rent asked, watching his Twinkie float away. After a moment, it sank, becoming fish food.
“I don’t know.” Steve returned to the helm. “Fuck. We’re trapped here, and he’ll probably kill us when we get back. We were almost there too! The park property is just beyond that point. Fuck!”
Steve picked up the box of Twinkies, and lobbed them into the water.
“What are you doing? That’s our survival food.”
“We’re dead, bro. It’s over. Might as well die out here.”
The Twinkie box floated on the currents, and then sank. It disappeared beneath the hull of the boat, only to reappear a few minutes later on the other side.
“What are you looking at?” Steve asked, as Rent climbed up on the foredeck.
Holding on to the railing, he carefully went up to the bow. The Twinkie box had drifted further away. Unless the security wall was ten feet thick, it had gone under and come out on the other side, as the Twinkies were now bobbing amongst the waves.
Taking a deep breath, and bracing for impact, Rent dove off the boat into the clear pink water, while Steve looked on, aghast.
“Are you insane?” he hollered, although Rent couldn't hear him. He was diving down, running his hand along the wall's surface until he couldn't feel it anymore. Then, he went under, surfacing rapidly on the other side.
"Steve!" he yelled, waving frantically. "Steve, I'm over here. Jump in and go down about five feet. That’s all!"
Steve hesitated. He was a pretty good swimmer, and the water was fairly warm, but it was a long way to shore, probably a lot further than it look. And, the sea was still rough. Even though the winds had somewhat abated, large, deep swells remained as if someone was stirring a giant pot.
If he
was going to die today, and he figured the chances were better than fifty-fifty, he'd rather spend his last few hours aboard the boat. At least here, he could rest comfortably, while eating stale candy and smoking cigs.
"Steve, come on!" Rent was paddling wildly.
"Sorry, dude." Steve lit a cig and stretched out on the bench. "I'll catch you in the next life. Good luck, bro. It’s been real. Not really."
"Steve!"
"Go on, Rent. Save yourself." Steve turned his face up to the sky where the weak morning sun was now a fully round, orange orb on the horizon.
Rent knew he had to get moving. He had a long swim ahead, and the longer he treaded water, the less strength he would have to cover the distance. Rent was a good swimmer, an excellent swimmer actually. He knew he could make it if he timed it right. He’d have to rest when he needed to, conserve his breath, and pace himself. But, he couldn't leave Steve to die. Could he?
As it turned out, Rent didn't have to make a decision. Out of nowhere a rogue wave appeared. Rent had heard of such things, but had never seen one, certainly not a wave as large as the wall of water which came upon the sailboat.
It crashed down upon the little craft, snapping the mast in two, tearing the sails to shreds, and instantly flooding the cabin. It bounced against the security wall, before doubling back upon the rapidly capsizing craft.
Steve found himself submerged, the cig still clinched between his fingers, the roiling waves sending him deep into the ocean. He twisted and rolled out of control, spiraling downward into the darkness, disoriented, and out of breath.
Rent watched the sailboat flip. He watched his brother pitch over the side, and he counted the seconds until Steve's head resurfaced. When the seconds turned into a minutes, when the sea had calmed, and still Steve remained below, Rent took the deepest breath his lungs would allow, and pitched himself back under. It took two more breaths for Rent to locate Steve, his only beacon, a path of tiny bubbles. It took every ounce of Rent's strength to pull his brother topside.
The two men surfaced together on the free side of the wall, both gasping for air, and spitting sea water.
"He did that!" Steve cried. "I told you he's trying to kill us."
"Whatever," Rent replied. "We need to swim."
It took a long time. At least the current was in their favor, and helped to propel them around the point. They rested occasionally by back floating on the waves, and other times, Rent had to pull Steve along.
It was mid-morning when they crawled ashore, collapsing on the sand, and rolling on their backs to let the warm sun dry them out.
"I never could have made it without you, bro," Steve declared.
"That's okay, Steve. I can't fly a spaceplane."
"Oh yeah. The spaceplane," Steve groaned. "Now, all we need to figure out is how to get to Jim’s place in Kalika-hahr."
Chapter 17
Taner had long since decided he was too old for this. Although, he wasn’t the type to sit around with a blanket on his knees, dozing before the fireplace, he certainly didn’t sign up for all this stress. There was only so much of Senya’s angst that anyone, most especially Taner, should have to deal with during their lifetime. And, this time around, Senya’s angst seemed worse than ever.
“It’s curious, isn’t it?” Kinar remarked, his voice a hushed whisper, his eyes wary.
Taner was standing next to the Lord Secretary’s desk, his gaze narrowly watching the door to the inner office. The woman was in there. Eva. The Prime Minister of Finance.
“Curious?” Taner raised his brows. “That would not be the word I should choose. Rather, I am having difficulty believing that the man who left is the same one who has returned.”
“Who else would he be?”
The door to the inner officer swished open, interrupting Taner’s need to respond. Not that he chose to respond anyway. Actually, Taner had nothing to say. The normally verbose Lord Chamberlain was inordinately subdued as of late.
The woman hurried through. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, her hair and dress slightly askew. She kept her eyes away from the men, watching the far wall, as if the boring oil landscapes of the planet Rehnor were of great interest. Sweeping past them, she raced out into the hall, a wisp of her floral scented perfume trailing after her.
“Your turn, Taner,” Kinar smirked. “Have your brought knee pads, or would like to use the ones the lady has left behind?”
“Kinar, you are terrible,” Taner scoffed, but it brought a smile to his lips, and a chuckle to his throat despite his anxiety.
“Am I?” Kinar asked. “My position ought to be retitled as Court Jester.”
“I should like a new position too,” Taner muttered, slowly approaching the inner office door. “I am tired of being the Imperial Nanny. I should like to bring Loman back from the dead, and make him do it.
Actually, I should rather return to that moment in his office when he first assigned me to the case, and this time, I shall refuse it. Let some other poor fool go find the blasted boy and spend a lifetime cleaning up all his messes.”
Taner found Senya behind his desk, leaning back in his chair. He had both feet up on the table, and a cig between his lips. There was an open bottle of vodka by his side, two full shot glasses resting near his feet, and a chess board laid out in the center of the table. As far as Taner could tell, the game had just begun as all the long-range pieces, and the kings were still unmoved in the back ranks. Oddly, both queens were lying horizontal on the sidelines.
Taner wondered if the drink and game were set for him. He stood in the doorway, waiting for an indication. He had come to discuss the Palace renovations, or rather, the lack of budget to effect any sort of repair. In fact, Taner had been told that all reconstruction was currently on hold. This greatly distressed the Lord Chamberlain. If the Imperial Palace was not to be restored, what would that mean for the rest of the planet?
“Your move,” His Imperial Majesty said, tipping his head back, and taking a long drag on his cigarette, giving Taner a glimpse of the missing finger and absent ring.
Assuming the command was for him, Taner took a step forward, only to discover a chess piece rising for the board and moving by itself. It was a black knight jumping from C6 to B4, a move that Taner would not have made.
“You never play white,” he murmured, whilst wondering who had executed this failed attack.
“I do now,” Senya replied, moving a pawn from C2 to C3. Then, he reached for a glass of vodka, and swiftly, knocked it back. “That’s not because I have become good, and neither am I pure. Go ahead, Luka. Your bishop is unprotected. Even Taner could see that. He is better at this game than you."
Taner watched in aghast as a black bishop moved, followed by the second glass of vodka, which went swirling in the air. He blinked his eyes rapidly as the liquid drained from the cup, disappearing into an invisible mouth, and swallowed by an invisible throat. Then, the bottle rose, refilling both shots.
“Fool,” Senya chortled, capturing the black bishop with his knight. “Fuck the glasses. Give me the bottle, and get yourself your own. I grow weary of sharing everything with you. In fact, I tire of playing your stupid games.” He swept his hand across the board, knocking all the pieces aside.
Taner watched them clatter upon the floor, while waiting for a response from whomever else was in the room. Apparently, there was someone, although Taner couldn’t hear what was said. Neither could he see who was sitting in the opposing chair.
“Get out,” His Imperial Majesty decided, waving his hand and whisking the chessboard away. “Leave me be. Your presence has become far too irritating.”
Taner took a few steps backward, again wondering if the order was meant for him, actually, hoping that indeed, he might be excused.
“Not you, Taner,” the Emperor said, raising the vodka bottle to his lips. He drained nearly a third before continuing. “I am always pleased to hear what you have to say, as much as I may be pleased by anything these days.”
“Is he gone?” Taner asked, cautiously approaching the desk.
“Who?”
“Whoever it that you were speaking to.”
“Kari-fa. ‘Twas only my brother, Luka, the most despicable creation ever to arise from the Holy Seed, and yes, he has departed, although he will not stay away for long.”
“Your brother? You don’t have a brother. Lydia, Sorkan, neither could…”
“Ach, Taner, I had thought you understood more than that.” Senya took another long gulp of the bottle, draining it by half.
Taner considered that the man before him was seriously intoxicated. Anything he might say would not necessarily be true. In his current state of mind, combined with the alcohol in his system, His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Rehnor might have gone insane.
“I am not insane, Taner, although I concede, I am entirely fucked up. I have concluded that despite my best efforts, I simply cannot win. Evil is too strong and mankind is too stupid, so I have decided that I shall no longer fight. I shall no longer expend any effort to save you from yourselves.”
“I don’t understand, Senya. What are you talking about?”
“Of course, you don’t understand.” He finished the bottle and tossed it on the floor. “You illustrate my point precisely. But, I like you, Taner, and so I shall let you live for as long as you desire. However, as to your question regarding the Palace and all of Rehnor, I shall destroy them. They have ceased to become useful, and I have ceased to care.”
Taner’s heart thudded heavily in his chest. "You can't be serious," he gasped.
"When have you ever known me to tell a joke?" The Emperor rose to his feet, summoning his cane from across the room. "'Tis not the first time in mankind's history that we have had to stop and reset. It saddens me though. I had so hoped this would be the last time."
"When will you do this?" Taner cried, following HIM out of the room. "How much time is there left?"
"I don't know. I haven't been granted Permission yet. You had better pray.” He half smiled. “Best tell everyone you know to do so. That would be the only hope you creatures might have left.”